


Nicotine and Cocoa Beans

by backpedaled



Series: Coffee and Cigarettes [2]
Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Cigarettes, Fluff, Homophobic Language, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, Relapse, Rooftop Cuddling, marshall is a wreck, slight angst, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:14:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7159112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backpedaled/pseuds/backpedaled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marshall struggles through a relapse.<br/>Bubba catches him red handed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nicotine and Cocoa Beans

Marshall’s mouth felt dry and dirty. His lungs burned with shame and his ribs racked with a cough that was set to scold him. He had tried so hard to keep his promise--so hard to stay true--but when he’d overheard heard his co-workers spewing homophobic nonsense, he wanted so badly to punch the lights out of them--and he was so close to doing it too, until--

 

“Bro, what would happen if one of the guys working here was actually gay?”

 

“I’d fucking beat the shit out of ‘em. See if they wanna be a faggot around me then.”

 

“There has to be at least one of them working here. Bro, we should find out!”

 

“Like a homo-hunt? I’m fucking down for it, man, lets go!”

 

He left. Almost quit, too. And now he was on the balcony to the bedroom he and his boyfriend of a year shared, relapsing and hating every second of it. His grip tightened around the cartridge of cigarettes in his hands, wanting so badly to fling it over the side and be done. Nothing could have prepared him for the sound of the sliding door opening behind him.

 

“Marsh? You’re back early. What are you…”

 

Wanting so badly to fling himself over the side and be done.

 

“...doing?”

 

_ Fucking hell. _

 

“Marshall. What the _ fuck? _ ”

 

“Baby--”

 

“No. Don’t you _ even, _ ” he shrieked. The soft pink of his hair became blurry as unwelcomed tears that insisted on showing face took control.

 

“Bubba, _ pleas _ _e_ \--” But he was already gone.

  
  


The setting sun, peeking behind the tall inner city skyscrapers, was just as subtle and good at hiding as Marshall’s oncoming wave of inherent depression. Standing out on the roof had become a questionable habit of his in recent months, and to this day Bubba had yet to find him there. He placed an unlit cigarette between his teeth and set the rest of the crumpled pack down on the ledge. Chewing on the offensive sticks of cancer wasn’t ideal, but it was better than smoking the damn things.

 

He watched as the veins of the city slowly began to clog with cars headed east to a picketed paradise; carrying the middle aged dreamers who now only hoped to fall comatose for at least six hours (knowing damn well they’d be lucky if they even got five). He’d be lucky if he got one.

 

He sighed deeply as he let his face come to rest in his palm, elbow leaning on the rooftop’s safety ledge. A flash of pink from his peripheral caused him to shift his attention to the pavement down below. From his spot up six stories, Bubba looked like a tiny bug, furiously attacking a tree. 

 

_ What a dork _ . 

 

His fond turned to sad, as he realized he was the reason Bubba was currently losing his shit. Six months sans cigarettes was not an easy endeavor, but with his loyal support system by his side, he managed. Only to fuck it up. Bubba appeared to have calmed down as he rested his forehead against the tree, shoulders slumped and arms hanging. 

 

Marshall shifted his arm to lay parallel to the safety railing and, in the process of doing so, accidentally knocked over the cartridge of cigarettes over the edge. The box landed a foot away from his boyfriend, effectively startling the living daylights out of him. Marshall held his breath, eyes glued to the top of his pink hair. He almost choked when Bubba looked up at him from the ground, blue eyes widening with horror. Marshall’s heart sped up and he ducked down against the wall, cursing himself for his late reaction.

 

_ Please don’t come up here. _

  
  


Marshall sat with his back leaning against the wall; legs splayed and arms limp by his sides, a distant look in his eyes as his head hung low. He looked somewhat like that of a broken doll, abandoned on a good day. The sun was ready to clock out and he vaguely wondered if he could join it. He could be content living on the sun--sure it was hot, but that was whatever. He could get used to the burning ball of gas surely. Surely, he could live ninety-two million miles away from reality. Ninety-two million miles away from Bu-- 

 

“Marshall?”

 

_ For fucks sake-- _

 

He had hot cocoa. In his hands, he had two steaming cups of what smelled like hot cocoa. “Wha--”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

He had a blanket. Draped on his shoulders, he had his favorite fleece blanket. Marshall shivers.  _ When did it get cold? _

 

Bubba’s bit lip was a tell-tale sign of hidden worry. “Marshall, I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He looked at him. Looked  _ through _ him, searching--always searching.

 

“M’fine.” 

 

“Baby--”

 

“ _ Isthathotcocoa _ ?” The high octave his voice took was was treacherous. Bubba’s face tightened before smoothing out and offering a small smile.

 

“It is.” Marshall looked at him expectantly and Bubba came closer, taking a seat on the rooftop next to him. He offered a cup and Marshall accepted, blowing on the foam and relishing in the warmth the mug offered. Bubba set his share down, and pulled the blanket off his shoulders. He shook it out before wrapping it around the both of them, nestling into Marshall’s side. Marshall smiled into his mug.

 

_ This is nice. _

 

“Are you going to talk to me about what happened?” Marshall stared into his cocoa thoughtfully, letting the question roll around in his mind.

 

“Was just some dicks at work,” he mumbled. “Said some stuff. I--” Marshall shut his mouth and set the mug down. His voice had begun to waver; he  _ hated _ when that happened. He rubbed his hands furiously on his face. 

 

Bubba pulled him into his chest. His attempt at staying dry was in vain, as his shoulders began to rack and his silent sobs became more audible.”I’m  _ sorry _ ,” he wailed. “I-I tried so _hard_.”

“We all slip up from time to time,” came the soft reassuring whisper in his hair. “I don’t hate you for it.” He slid a hand under his jaw and placed their foreheads together, swiping away stray tears with his thumb. “I just wish you could talk to me about these things. That’s part of why I’m here.” Marshall sniffled and tried to pull back and regain his composure. Bubba, however, was not done coddling him--not in the slightest. 

 

“Uh-uh, you’re  _ mine _ .” Any attempts at getting out of Bubba’s hold were futile. He held him even closer to his chest, practically hugging the life out of his skull. Marshall laughed into his sweater, a deep rumble that resonated in Bubba’s vertebrae. 

 

_ I love you. _

  
Bubba pulled his face out of its burrow and up towards his. Their kiss was soft and fleeting and it made Marshall's lungs ache. A burn way better than cigarettes, and even more satisfying than nicotine.

**Author's Note:**

> this is where i complain about how my style is nowhere near my taste.  
> gotta keep at it until it's there i guess.


End file.
